ADDICTION

Disclaimer – Gilmore Girls don't belong to me. If I did, Lorelai never would've slept with Chris, let alone married the guy and Rory and Logan wouldn't have broken up for good at the end of the season. But if this Gilmore Girls Telemovie comes to pass, depending on how it goes I may forgive the shows creators for leaving it in the hands of David Rosenthal which ruined it all.

Summary - Addiction can be deadly and the road it leads you down can be even deadlier. Trory. Told from Louise's POV.

WARNING: Extremely AU!!! A story about drug addiction. Contains Rory/Tristan, Louise/Logan and brief mentions of Steph/Collin and Paris/Finn.

Necessary Background Information - Chris and Lorelai got married when they had Rory, so Rory grew up in Hartford, next door to Louise, and thus they became best friends. Tristan & Steph are step-brother and sister. Paris & Logan are brother and sister. (Honor and Madeline were not used as they did not fit appropriately for this story)

Reviews – Thank you to: just hidden, nk-number1actress, kate, Nicole Katherine, Curley-Q, slightly423psychotic :D, trorygirl, bubz22, corruptedchic, starshine34, Meredith McDreamy, veronicalogan, darkvixen06, londonluver, darcy007, max.logan, Jackie & peace love thc.

Well this it!! The final chapter! This has been a most enjoyable experience writing my first bit of fanfiction. I thank you all and I hope you enjoy this chapter and the whole story.

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ADDICTION

Chapter 14 – Death Becomes Her

The tiny apartment was dead silent the next morning.

And Steph was livid.

She burst through the front door, waking up Logan and myself who were laying upon the lumpy old couch in the dingy living room.

"Oh my God!" She was shrieking loudly. "They caught Tristan's supplier! They have names! They know he bought it!"

"What?!?" Logan said groggily, gently pushing my sleepy body of his, sitting up, now wide awake. He grabbed some cigs from the coffee table, lighting up one and handing it over to me. I inhaled deeply.

"Tristan's supplier got busted!" Steph was shrieking, tearing the entire apartment over, trying to find what she was looking for. "They know where we live now, they know he bought some! We're going to be in lock-down by dinner time! Don't you get it?"

I've never seen Steph so broken. Even after losing Finn and Paris, she was never crazy.

She was crazy now. No … she was now insane.

"Tristan!" she screamed, pounding on the door, an occasional sob escaping her lips while Logan and I tried to figure out what exactly was going on. "Tristan! Open the fucking door! We have to go! NOW!"

No response.

I think she knew, honestly. I think she knew.

She knocked down the door. Put all her force into it and busted open the door, and rushed in. I followed slowly behind her.

They looked so peaceful. Tristan had Rory wrapped securely in his broad arms, and they were buried in each other's greasy hair.

"Tristan!" She cried hysterically, shaking him back and forth. "Get up!"

I leaned down to gently shake Rory awake. She was so cold.

Then I saw the empty bag.

The bag that had been full last night.

All the color drained out of my face.

"Steph!" I said, my voice a stunned and horrified whisper. "The bag."

She saw it and froze. "Oh my god ..." She whispered stunned, sounding like the 16 year old girl I once knew. "OH MY GOD!"

She screamed and tried to push Tristan on his back, as I tried to see Rory's face.

She was the second dead person I had ever touched. Paris was the first.

Her face was all Rory and yet not. So thin and sickly looking. She looked like a skeleton. Salty tears had dried all over her pale face.

Tristan didn't look any better, his entire face contorted in pain.

They had OD'd. Tristan and Rory, they had OD'd.

Steph bent gently down and picked up a note that had been scattered among their things. She tried to read it out loud, but collapsed to the floor in sobs instead. I snatched it out of her hands.

There, in Rory's scrawly handwriting, were written the words "It's better this way. R and T."

Steph folded back the blankets slowly to reveal the rest of their naked intertwined bodies.

Their hands were clasped tightly together.

I turned away unable to stomach the sight and threw up. I got sick. All over the floor.

And then, for the first time, after everything that had gone down, after everything that had happened since the moment Rory and I first stepped into that party that had led us to now, after it all … I let myself sob.

I cried hard and deeply unable to contain it in any longer. I cried for Finn, I cried for Paris, and I cried for the little girl I once knew. Louise Ashley Grant.

But mostly, I cried for my best friend. My Rory. The best friend that I had killed.

"Police! Open up! LAPD!" a loud voice boomed from the hallway vibrating through the tiny apartment.

I froze up, my entire body aching. I turned to find Steph, shaking and sputtering wildly by her dead brother's side, slowly pulling herself to stand up.

In her hand was Rory's gun.

"No!" I shrieked at full volume at her. It was like the slow motion thing again.

I didn't see what happened. Steph pushed me down and moved in what like step-by-step motion into the dingy living room. I heard gun-shots. And then I was arrested.

But I saw Steph's strewn and battered body.

And I saw … Logan's.

Apparently, Steph charged at them and they sprayed her with bullets. Logan just got in the way.

I can't talk about it, anymore. If I talk about it, I'll go crazy. Crazy like Steph. Because I loved Logan. Really. I did. I just can't talk about it.

Don't make me fucking talk about it.

I was young once. I was innocent. I kept telling myself that as they made me ride downtown in the cop car. Within 48 hours, my parents were there.

And then, I was in rehab.

So … you wanted me to talk. I've told you my story. Now … here comes the whole process where you analyze me … tell me that it's not really my fault that they all died. That it was my parents fault for raising me like they did. Or you'll recommend that they give me some anti-depressants or whatever.

Fuck you.

Don't you dare pretend to know what it's like. Don't you dare! You have no idea what it's like to see your best friend laying there, completely dead, probably burning in hell somewhere. If you did, you'd be sobbing. You'd be crying.

But I won't cry.

I won't give life the satisfaction. I only cried once. When Rory Leigh Hayden died. Only once. And that's all I'll ever cry.

Do you have any more pictures of her to show me? Maybe even a nice coroners report … you know. After they cut her open to see what she died of. Her mother, who had become suppressed by society, probably didn't even in know she was dead for a long while after. God, her father who had disappeared probably didn't even know she was dead. She probably sat in the morgue as "Jane Doe." Right next to "John Doe," her lover.

Her soul mate.

So that's the story of the girl in the photograph. That's the story of me. That's the story of the downfall. And that's the story of why I've attempted to kill myself Lord knows how many times.

Doesn't it make sense? I mean … Tristan and Rory … they had love. They had everything. They had each other, and they still decided that they couldn't survive. Imagine me! I have NO one!

Don't you dare give me that look of pity. Cause you see, you're making all these judgments in your head. But in reality, your kids could be on the exact same path I'm on.

Scary thought isn't it Dr. Chris? One of these days you may be looking at a photograph of your dead child.

I just hope you don't see my best friend and her boyfriend lying there. I just hope you don't see me helplessly shaking my dead best friend's lifeless body.

I just hope you don't see my face.

--- Finis ---